All or Nothing
by Caliente
Summary: one-shot slightly AU modern vignette –– In which Lizzie wants it all, Darcy actually tries and there is miscommunication abound. Oh and a wedding happens in there, too. –– featuring cameos by most of the P&P cast; WARNING: mild cursing


**Author's Note:** Testing the waters of another fandom with my own modern take on the classic P&P tale (which will include cussing-- ye be warned). This is a pretty basic one-shot and all plot elements should be pretty obvious as the story goes on. A few people have had name alterations and, though I believe it's pretty obvious who is who (I tried to use nicknames when updating things), I thought I'd clear it all up here for simplicity's sake: Cara = Caroline Bingley, Chase = Charles Bingley, Gina = Georgiana Darcy, Lo = Louisa Hurst. I think that's everyone but if there's any confusion, ping me! Um, so, liberties were taken but (hopefully) everyone is recognizable, at least. The title comes from the Theory of a Deadman song of the same name (which I also do not own). Good song, by the way. Last, but no least, many, many thanks to Beaubier for reading over this story and making sure it didn't suck to hard. I love ya, doll! 'Kay, enough rambling from me now. :) Cheers!  
**Disclaimer:** Characters mentioned are used without permission and are the creation of Jane Austen. I am simply borrowing them for my purposes. Please don't sue.

**All or Nothing**  
by, Caliente

The wedding was beautiful. The reception, however, was a bit duller. Lizzie was sitting at the head table, finally, blessedly alone. She was thrilled her sister Jane had chosen her as maid of honor but the rest of the bridal party left something to be desired. Plus, she felt weird wearing a gown, despite the fact it was only knee length and really a lovely lilac. It wasn't her style and she felt strangely like she was seven years old again, playing dress-up in her mother's clothes.

She tapped her fork to the beat playing in the background as she scanned the room for the bride and groom. Currently, they were making their rounds and visiting with some unfamiliar people that Lizzie thought she might've heard someone identify as the groom's distant cousins. Or maybe she was imagining things; she could never be sure where champagne was involved.

Letting her gaze become unfocused, she leaned her chin on her hand and let her mind wander away from family and weddings. So when someone approached her, she didn't notice him until he was standing right in front of her. Under any other circumstances, it wouldn't have mattered. But this wasn't just any man, it was William Darcy III.

And, sure, as the groom's best friend and best man she'd hardly been able to avoid his person completely, but Lizzie'd actually been doing a pretty decent job after being forced to leave the church with him arm in arm. She suppressed a sigh. It was bad luck, that ending.

Darcy was extending a hand toward Lizzie, smiling in a way that made her feel utterly transparent. "May I have this dance?"

Against her better judgment (which hadn't really been all that great as of late but never mind that), she silently accepted by placing her hand in his. It wouldn't do to make a scene—not at her favorite sister's wedding.

He led her to the dance floor in all his gentlemanly glory then turned to face her. Lizzie felt his hands on her hips and instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck. They began to sway in time with the song.

"Are you going to look at me?"

Lizzie was relatively sure she could be just fine leaving her gaze glued to his shoulder. But no. She was made of tougher stuff than that. She raised her gaze (Scarlett O'Hara eyes—that's what he'd called them once) to meet his shining blue.

"Okay, better." He was still smiling at her and there was even a bit of laughter in his voice.

Laughing—him! At her! Lizzie wasn't sure if she felt mortified or pissed off. Probably both.

His smile dimmed, turning from almost-teasing to something more sincere. "You planning on saying anything to me at all?"

It was only because she detected a hint of anxiety in his tone that even considered his question. Well, she probably owed him that much (if not more). "I don't know what to say," she admitted finally, hating that she sounded small.

Darcy quirked an eyebrow. "I never thought I'd see the day when the opinionated Lizzie Bennett was at a loss for words."

Lizzie's mouth thinned and she shook her head. "This was a bad idea." But her silent vow to keep the wedding drama-free stopped her from storming off the floor then and there.

Now he was frowning, too. "Hey, I'm just trying—"

"Yeah," she agreed suddenly, "you are." Her eyes narrowed. "Why are you trying?" As far as she knew, William Darcy III had never wanted for anything in his entire life. (Except maybe her, once upon a time—before everything between them was broken and even looking at him was like some kind of challenge sent from the gods.)

He let out an exasperated sigh. "Your sister and my best friend just got married," he replied a condescending tone. The same tone, in fact, that had lost him the last of her politeness and resulted in more things being said than either of them would have liked once before.

This time, Lizzie wisely kept her mouth shut and simply gave him a pointed look instead.

"I just meant—we're connected now. Even if we wanted to be out of each other's lives, we won't be." There was intensity in his countenance that scared her. "And I don't want to fight anymore. I… want us to just _be_ and have that be _okay_."

Her throat felt dry and Lizzie didn't trust herself to speak right away. She took a calming breath, then nodded slowly. "Of course," she replied simply. It wasn't quite an answer but it was the best she could come up with just then.

His brow was quizzical as he studied her face and she tried not to do the same. "Isn't that what you want?" he asked.

No, Lizzie wanted to scream. She wanted to shout that it didn't matter what she wanted because obviously he'd figured out what _he_ wanted and it wasn't _her_ anymore. She wanted to hit him for hurting her feelings and cry out in frustration because how stupid was this whole thing, really? But, mostly, she wanted to know the ache in her chest she was feeling was only temporary. That she'd heal someday because it was stupid of her to fall for a guy after turning down his proposal and she didn't even like him _anyway_, right? It was just a phase or something.

But none of that came out. She just nodded stiffly before looking away—over at her parents who were dancing in a close embrace looking more content she'd ever felt. Certainly not Darcy; they kept a respectable distance apart and their bodies at proper angles. "I don't know what I want," she whispered, not even realizing she'd spoken aloud.

There was no more dialogue and the song ended just a few seconds later. Lizzie couldn't force herself to look at his face again, so she settled her gaze at his chest. "Thanks for the dance," she said simply before turning and walking away.

Instead of going back to the head table (which had been taken over by the groom's evil step-sisters, anyway) Lizzie kept an even pace as she moved outside the banquet room. (This wasn't remarkable in and of itself—the bathrooms were out there.) Once in the hallway, however, she broke into a run in the opposite direction.

Having visited the hotel a number of times with her sister and mother, Lizzie knew the layout relatively well. She made for the lobby, then ducked into the telephone area. It was small but far enough removed that she was out of sight to the people passing by.

She didn't know how long she was standing there, alone and breathing hard with her shoulders shaking with silent, suppressed sobs; she just knew when she'd been found out. The tapping of formal men's shoes gave the invader away with enough warning that she managed to straighten herself out before he appeared.

He wasn't Darcy and her heart dropped with the realization. (Of course it wasn't Darcy—why would he try and come after her? She was an idiot.) "Oh, um, you want to make a call," she said, feeling stupider by the minute. "I was just leaving."

She hastily slid back out of the small corridor, her kitten heels making a loud thunking noise that left her feeling self-conscious. (Wooden soles, go figure.) In her rush, she very nearly bowled over a person standing just outside the small area.

Stupid. God. Lizzie's face was on fire. "Oh, I'm sor—" she cut herself off when she realized that this time it _was_ Darcy. Instead of being pleased, though, she only felt worse.

"I was trying to decide if you'd want me to follow you or not," he admitted when she didn't say anything else. He ran a hand over his short hair—something she knew he did when frustrated. (She'd seen him often enough that way, after all.) "But it seems that even after all this time I still don't have a clue what you want. Lizzie, I swear, I am _trying_ my best here, but I—"

She tried to smile but it was mostly wasted effort. "I know," she told him, eyes wide with sincerity, "and I appreciate it; I'm sure the newlyweds will, too."

Darcy frowned a little. "Nice bonus, sure, but it's you I care about." His eyes widened a fraction and her mouth dropped open. "I just—I meant—" He shut his eyes for a moment, shaking his head. "Fuck it. I wasn't going to say anything but—" He shook his head again and took a deep breath. "I hate the way things are between us. I know you never cared much for me but I—you're just _so_…" he trailed off, smiling a little. "I've wracked my brain but it doesn't seem like anything I do is right." He took her hand in his. "Please, Lizzie, just tell me what to do. I'd do anything if you would only give me a shot."

Here, her heart reminded her that it was still involved.

"I just want a chance to be your friend," he finished.

Shattered was the only way to describe how she felt just then. Completely and utterly shattered. For a moment she'd had hope and then… nothing. Lizzie knew it was bad when a simple ache in her chest would be considered an improvement. "I can't," she said in a soft but strong voice, pulling her hand from his grip. "I just… _can't_ be your friend." It would be too hard and she was selfish. She didn't want the reminder of how she'd fucked everything up staring her in the face. It would make pretending there wasn't anything missing impossible and she didn't think there was any other way she could cope.

The expression on his face was one she'd never seen him wear before. (If it was anyone else, she'd call it desperation but this was William Darcy the _Third_, so that couldn't possibly be right.) "It's not some scheme," he assured her quickly. "I won't—_you know—_again, I promise!"

Lizzie hadn't thought she could feel any worse. But that was the truth about William Darcy III—he could _always_ make things worse. Or, at least, he could when it came to her.

"Please, just give me a chance," he all but pleaded. "I don't like my life without you in it."

If he was any less sincere and the entire situation less terrible, she would've laughed at how tacky a line that truly was. But it wasn't and she didn't. She just blinked and shook her head. "I don't understand."

Darcy began pacing. "It's like… I was living my whole life in black and white. But I'd never known color, so I didn't realize what I was missing. Then you came along and challenged me and made me think and then suddenly the entire world was a technicolor wonder." He paused and stared her down. "I don't want to go back to a colorless existence."

Lizzie furrowed her brows and tried not to feel anything at all. It didn't work. "So what? We bicker at each other like we always do until one day you find a new favorite toy or _whatever_ and then I'm left forgotten out in the cold?"

A long pause stretched between them. "First of all," Darcy began slowly, "I'm not nearly as flaky as that scenario would imply. You _know_ that."

Looking away, Lizzie nodded. She more than anyone else, really, truly knew just how seriously he took his friendships. "Yeah."

"Secondly," he continued, "even if I were to eventually find a new 'toy or _whatever_,' it's not going to be any time soon."

This piqued Lizzie's curiosity. "What about your mother?" Catherine De Bourgh was as domineering as she had been beautiful during her days on the catwalk. She made it no secret that she wanted Darcy married—preferably in some sort of business merger type relationship—and some legitimate grandchildren for her empire. (She wanted nothing to do with her step-son George's illegitimate offspring; he'd been all but banished from the family, anyway, when he introduced Darcy's baby sister, Gina, to drugs at the ripe old age of fourteen.)

"What _about_ my mother?" Darcy repeated with a roll of his eyes. "I'm sure she'll continue to bitch and moan but what can she do? Since Gina and I now have the controlling interest in our father's business, she's barely bothering to attend board meetings."

Lizzie tilted her head, considering. "So that's what you want? To forget the past and be friends?"

Darcy pursed his lips and shook his head. "You're not listening. What I want is for you to be in my life. Period, end of story. And I wouldn't mind if you'd tell me how to make that happen, either." The last part was said in a lighter tone, as if a joke, but she didn't miss the serious look in his eyes.

"I'm just not sure it _can_," she admitted. "I'm selfish, Dub-yah." A nickname he'd loathed when first given but now brought a quirk of a smile to his face. "Stubborn and pigheaded at the best of times, sure, but I don't think even that can…" She sighed. "I need to move on. I _need_ to."

He was frowning again as his eyes bored holes into her skull. "Look, if this is about the proposal thing, I really meant what I said. This isn't some misguided attempt to subtly woo you or scare off other potential boyfriends." He laughed but it was forced. "Not that I won't be insanely jealous, of course, but who could blame me?"

Lizzie didn't smile. She felt as though the shattered pieces had been crushed until there was nothing left inside of her. "Don't." It wasn't a command so much as an urgent plea. "Please, I-I hate how everything happened between us. I was such an asshole and you didn't deserve that."

"Yes, I did," Darcy said, face all seriousness again. "We both know I did. I was too self-assured and made a complete jackass of myself. I'm rich, sure, but that just means I act like a spoiled brat when I don't get what I want." He reached toward her but stopped before touching her cheek, letting his hand fall away again. "I just want the chance to redeem myself now. Please."

There were so many thoughts swirling through her mind, Lizzie had trouble digesting this new one. "Redeem yourself? Dub-yah, you have _nothing_ to redeem. We're square—_more_ than square! You drove me for nearly ten hours straight to get my little sister when George…" she didn't finish, just shook her head in disgust. "You paid for her rehab for reasons I cannot even fathom except you really do know just how shitty our insurance coverage is." She blushed and looked away. "I know you didn't want me to know but Lydia cannot keep a secret to save her life. And then, what you did for Chase and Jane… we both know there wouldn't have been a wedding today if not for you."

"No," he agreed, a crease forming between his brows. "It would've been last November—when it _should_ have been. I was just fixing a mess of my own creation, that's hardly admirable."

Lizzie looked at him, wondering how anyone could think such a thing. "What are you talking about?" she all but demanded. "It takes a lot to admit your wrong—trust me, I _don't_ do it often enough to know. But you did that, then tried to set things right. I know you would've done anything to make sure this day happened once you realized Chase's happiness depended on it. And since Jane's happiness did, too, I really do appreciate the effort."

Darcy's hand twitched and jaw tightened. "Fuck, you are making this _so_ hard," he said suddenly. "I just keep thinking over and over again: 'Don't scare her away. Whatever you do, don't scare her away.' But then you go and just… say things like _that_ and I feel like I did that stupid day in the grove all over again. All I want to do is hold your hand and make sure you're okay and be with you for the rest of my life."

There were no words and Lizzie couldn't have spoken them even if there were. She just stared at him, eyes wide as saucers.

Mistaking her silence for agreement, he sighed. "I know, I know. That's _exactly_ the sort of thing that would scare you away."

"No, that's not—"

"It's okay," Darcy cut in. "I know it because I'm fucking petrified myself. I tried that whole moving on thing but…" he shook his head, "I was _miserable_, Lizzie. And I finally realized that, even if I never had you as more than a friend, I hated the idea of not having you around at all." He let out an empty laugh. "I mean, I'd be lying if I said I didn't secretly hope you'd realize at some point during the friendship that you were totally hot for me, too, but we're not in a chick flick.

"You're still too smart for me, though," he said almost wistfully, "and I know when to fold." He leaned down and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. "I won't bother you anymore. And, I promise, when I do see you, I will be nothing short of amazingly polite. And probably slightly awkward because, well, I'm me and we know how spectacularly I deal with rejection."

Lizzie eyes were prickling but, despite the fact that she _hated_ crying, she couldn't find it in her to care just then. "No," she repeated, this time in a louder tone. She latched onto his wrist, so he couldn't leave. "If you'd let me get a word in edgewise, you'd know that you couldn't be more wrong. I don't _want_ you to fold, Dub-yah because I—fuck," tears were starting to roll down her cheeks, "I'm pretty much hopelessly in love with you."

It was Darcy's turn to stare in silent shock.

If she hadn't been the one in the conversation with him, it'd almost be comically ironic. "And, yeah, it scares the crap out of me. But _that's_ why I couldn't be friends. I just couldn't imagine walking around with this crushed feeling I've been carrying ever since you didn't tell me you were in town with Chase." She smiled but it was watery and sad more than anything else. "I figured it was some kind of penance or something—you'd moved on and I was stuck realizing what a colossal mess I'd made of things."

"You love me?" Darcy's face was slowly breaking out into what she could only describe as the most genuinely happy expression she'd ever seen from him. "Say it again." Lizzie quirked an eyebrow. "Please say it again. Here, I'll go first—I love you, Elizabeth Agnes Bennett."

Lizzie laughed a little and wiped her face. "I love you, William Henry Darcy the Third," she replied. "And my middle name's not Agnes."

"Ah but I know the mystery middle name starts with an 'A'. I just figure I'll try every name I can think of until you admit to the one that's yours." He was grinning widely and, in her opinion, it was the best she'd ever seen him look in her life.

Laughing again, Lizzie shook her head. "Yeah, good luck with that." Then she bit her lip and looked up at him with only a touch of anxiety on her face. "So you love me and I love you—now what?"

"Well, I figure we should go on a few dates before I do something incredibly idiotic like propose again or buy us a house," Darcy said with a smirk. "But right now-now… I'm thinking that I'd really like to give you a kiss." He paused, expression thoughtful. "Only if you promise not shove into a fountain afterward again, though."

Lizzie couldn't stop smiling, and she took that as a good sign. "Fine," her tone was mock-grudging as he wrapped his arms around her waist and moved closer. "But only because there're none around."

His lips hovered over hers for a moment as he looked into her eyes with what she'd once thought was judging but now recognized as searching. "Say it one more time?"

"I love you," she whispered against his lips. Because, despite all odds against it, she did. And it was quite possibly the most freeing revelation she'd ever had. Well, now that she was kissing Darcy instead of having her spirit destroyed by him.

He broke the kiss for a moment and nodded. "I'm sorry I didn't visit you when I came with Chase. I just… wanted to be sure everything worked out with him and Jane. If I had known you were hot for me, though, I never would've waited."

Lizzie snorted. "It's a good thing you're working on that self-esteem problem, Dub-yah," she said with heavy sarcasm, "because we were really—"

Another searing kiss cut her off but, somehow, Lizzie found she didn't mind much at all. That might not always stop an argument but, for the stupid ones? Yeah, she could see it working…

* * *

Because it was Chase and Jane's day, Lizzie and Darcy decided not to say anything about their relationship revelation. Unfortunately, Cara—the younger of Chase's two step-sisters that also happened to have something of an unrequited obsession with Darcy—had "grown concerned" about her beloved's disappearance and in her search for him, found him still walking hand in hand with Lizzie.

Her scream echoed through the lobby and probably down into the parking area. She proceeded to burst into hysterical tears and run off. (Probably to the bathroom.)

Before Darcy and Lizzie had time to digest _that_, they were accosted by several of Chase and Cara's relatives (including the elder step-sister, Lo), a number of guests neither of them knew all that well and the bride and groom.

Chase had a knowing smirk on his face, giving Darcy a thumbs up. Jane scolded him lightly, then dragged Lizzie away to make sure that (1) this was really what she wanted, (2) Lizzie hadn't recently suffered any blows to the head, and (3) Darcy wasn't blackmailing her. Lizzie only laughed, hugged Jane and told her to go back to her husband with a promise of at least one long talk as soon as her honeymoon was over.

By the time Chase, Jane, Darcy and Lizzie made it back to the ballroom, the people who'd come to investigate had managed to share the news of what seemed to be a fledgling relationship. Lizzie's mother immediately whisked her away and began using words like "wedding," "grandchildren" and "rich and handsome!"

Eventually, Lizzie escaped her mother and was just about to go in search of Darcy when her younger sister—still thin and a bit pale but healthier than the last time she'd left the rehab facility—and her best friend-slash-cousin took their turn asking a lot of questions that were both awkwardly inappropriate and hilarious. They referred to Darcy as a "total babe" as they giggled and teased her. But they were also much more willing to let Lizzie go when she said she wanted to dance with her "babe" than her mother had been.

Finally, Lizzie was free. Unfortunately, now she could not see hide nor hair of Darcy. Well, that sucked. Their first hour as a couple and she hadn't spent more than a few minutes with him!

Someone sidled up to her and she found Darcy smiling down at her, offering a cup of coffee. "Decaf," he said before she could ask. "I remember you saying you can't have caffeine after three if you don't want to stay up all night."

"You remember that?" Lizzie asked incredulously.

Darcy smiled, threading his fingers through her empty hand. "I remember everything you say," he answered.

"Oh, God—does that mean I'm going to have to start thinking before I open my big mouth?" She was joking… mostly. There was something intimidating about someone really knowing that much about her who was, like, not her dad.

Placing a kiss on the top of her head, Darcy laughed. "You better not," he teased. "I love your big mouth."

"Pfft, you have to say that," Lizzie replied, waving off his compliment. "Otherwise your girlfriend might pick a fight with you."

Now Darcy was grinning. "You're my girlfriend," he said in that voice that told her he still couldn't quite believe it.

Lizzie smiled back. "Unless you're hiding another somewhere I don't know about—yes, yes I am."

"And just when I thought life couldn't get any more perfect." He moved to wrap his arm around her waist but stopped when the music changed and a slower song came on. "How 'bout another dance, Miss Bennett?"

Smiling, Lizzie inclined her head as she considered for a second. "I'd love to, Mister Darcy."

Darcy tugged her onto the dance floor and spun her so she was facing him before pulling her close. Lizzie let him envelop her, resting her head on his shoulder. Their steps were slow and not quite in step with the beat but she felt like she'd never fit anywhere as well as she fit right there in his arms. And that, she decided, was all that really mattered.


End file.
